


touch and go

by queenregent



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dom/sub Undertones, Infidelity, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 10:45:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4518912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenregent/pseuds/queenregent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis comes home from a six month study abroad trip to find that his boyfriend and best friend were shagging while he was away. And he's totally, completely not jealous. Really. Not at all.</p><p>(or: a uni au where it takes Louis, Liam, and Zayn an entire summer to figure out how they're supposed to slot together.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	touch and go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [breathedeeply](https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathedeeply/gifts).



> this fic literally would not have been possible without my dearest crustacean (tumblr user [alwaystyles](http://alwaystyles.tumblr.com)), and her endless help and support <3
> 
> there are parts of this that are pretty self indulgent (read: random football scene and multiple odes to zayn malik's hands), so just bear with me. aside from the tags up top, i want to mention that there are some themes of depression and anxiety throughout the fic, but they're more indicative of my own experiences than anything else. also, harry and niall really shouldn't be tagged in this because they're barely around, but they're there, so, i guess, technically it counts?
> 
> also, if you want to listen to the playlist i made for this fic, it's right [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/queenregent/playlist/0fXIodBJQ3CfTaVMau6Ktk).
> 
> disclaimer: this is a work of fiction, and these are fictional representations of the boys.

Louis arrives at Heathrow not knowing what to expect. After six months away in the States on study abroad, he has no idea what he’s about to walk into. Sure, he and Liam have been in constant communication since he left, but that doesn’t mean things will be exactly the way they were before. A lot can change in six months. Look at his mum. She got married and had a new set of twins all while he was away, and now he’s not even sure how he’ll fit into his own family.

So, he’s worried.

He’s worried as he gets off the plane, worried as he goes through customs, worried as he searches for Liam’s face in the crowd surrounding the international arrivals.

He shouldn’t have been worried.

He spots Liam just as Zayn spots him. Their eyes meet, and identical grins spread across their faces. Of course Zayn is even more beautiful than the last time Louis saw him on Skype, his hair pulled back into a top knot, a fresh nose piercing glinting in the early morning light. 

He sighs a little because that _clearly_ hasn’t changed. He’s just as painfully in love with his oblivious best friend as he was when he boarded his flight to New York.

But then he sees Liam, and his entire face breaks into a huge smile. His Liam, warm and bright, wearing one of Louis’ jumpers, grinning so widely that his eyes are just little slits in his face. He hoists his duffle more securely on his back and rushes for Liam, pulling him into a tight, relieved embrace.

He can feel muscle in the other’s arms that hadn’t been there before, but he still smelled the same – like detergent, cologne, and something so distinctly _Liam_ that he didn’t know he’d been missing until this moment.

Before he realizes what’s happening, he’s kissing Liam, arms wrapped tight around his neck. For his part, Liam can’t seem to believe Louis is really here, pulling back every few minutes to stare at him with awe struck, brilliantly happy eyes.

“Hi,” Louis says with a smile. “Long time, no see, yeah?”

“I love you,” Liam kisses him, giddy and joyous. “I love you.”

“That was absolutely sickening. I think I’m going to hurl,” Zayn says loftily from their left, and they both look to find him holding up his phone to record everything and smiling despite himself.

Liam laughs and loosens his grip on Louis so that he can extricate himself from their embrace and be reunited with Zayn. He pauses for a moment in front of him, at a loss for words, but thankfully, Zayn breaks the silence, giving him one of those characteristic smiles that Louis’ noticed, over the years, have only ever been for him.

“Welcome back, bro,” Zayn says quietly, and there’s so much fondness in his voice, Louis can’t even take it. He pulls Zayn into a tight hug, burying his head into the other’s shoulder, and sends prayers up to whoever really because everything’s just as he left it, and he shouldn’t have worried at all.

~

After eating shitty takeaway from Louis’ favorite restaurant, showering off the exhaustion of his flight, and sharing a cigarette with Zayn on the balcony, he and Liam are finally left alone. They don’t even try to attempt catching up, instead finding each other’s mouths greedily and doing what even the longest Skype call couldn’t give them. 

But as Louis’ pulling his shirt over his head quickly, mouth latching onto Liam’s neck once he’s finished and sucking a beautiful red bruise into the hollow of his throat, Liam’s hand rests against his bicep, and he says, “Wait, Lou. Hold on a second.”

“What is it?” Louis asks, confused and breathless. “What’s wrong?” He searches Liam’s face for some sort of answer, but the other just smiles halfheartedly and shakes his head.

“Nothing,” Liam says, brushing an assuring kiss across Louis’ lips to placate him. “Nothing, I promise. I just– there’s something I need to tell you before things go further.”

“Okay,” Louis replies. He tries to keep his expression even, but this is what he’d been afraid of – a distance too big to bridge that would slowly eat them alive because every ‘ _we need to talk_ ’ was just taking them one step closer to the end.

“I know we agreed not to talk about shags we had while we were apart, but it just – it wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t tell you.” Liam can’t quite meet his eyes when he speaks, and his cheeks are flushing an even deeper shade of pink, and yeah, Louis’ worried now. “While you were gone, um. Me and Zayn. Sort of – sort of, um, started…fucking.”

There’s a hot flash of jealousy deep within Louis’ chest. It’s always been there, he thinks, when a guy gets too flirty with Zayn or a girl walks out of his room wearing one of his t-shirts looking properly debauched. But, right now, with Liam, he’s almost _relieved_.

“Christ, you scared me,” Louis exhales shakily. He crawls back into Liam’s lap and grinds down, smirking at the surprised whimper that echoes in the space between them. “I thought it was going to be something bad.”

“You’re not upset?” Louis can tell that Liam’s struggling a little to maintain coherent conversation, what with Louis’ arse squirming in his lap, but it’s still cute that he tries.

“Everyone wants to sleep with Zayn. All it means is that you have eyes, and he has eyes.” Off Liam’s confusion, he continues, “Because, Liam Payne, I must inform you that you are _unfairly_ fit.” He kisses Liam, soft, open-mouthed, and easy. “Anyone’d be lucky to have you.”

“Too bad,” he purrs, taking Louis by surprise and flipping them so that he has Louis pinned between him and the mattress. “I’m taken.”

Louis grins and lets himself get lost in the breadth of Liam’s hands and what they’re doing to him, but there’s a small, niggling voice in the back of his head that, for the life of him, he can’t shut up.

_Things have changed._

~

“Shouldn’t you be inside?” Zayn’s voice catches him off guard, and in his current state of intoxication, Louis wouldn’t put it past himself if he imagined it. But no, he’s here, so very Zayn with his long lashes and plush lips and pretty eyes, staring at Louis with all of the concern in the world. “It is your party, after all.” 

Louis scoffs. “More like an excuse to get pissed and have all of my closest friends pay for it.” He clumsily pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and offers one to Zayn, hands not quite steady from the alcohol, but flushing pink when Zayn accepts. They light up simultaneously, both of them inhaling and exhaling in sync.

“I really missed you, bro,” Zayn says after a long moment. “It’s good to have you back.”

This is what Louis likes (loves) about Zayn: he always knows what to say and when to say it. The party left him feeling slightly out of place, no longer the center of everyone’s in jokes, and having Zayn as a constant is, honestly, the best feeling in the world.

But, as usual, Louis just _couldn’t_ leave things alone.

“Is that why you fucked Liam, then?” The words slip out of his lips before he can stop them. He never meant to ruin the moment, but now that he has, his drunken mind gets a sadistic twinge of pleasure out of seeing the way Zayn looks as though he’s been slapped.

“He told you about that?” he asks, voice taut like a drum. There’s tension in the way he holds his cigarette – tight, like a lifeline, and desperate, like an addict.

“Yeah,” Louis says, a little too harshly.

They stand in silence for a long moment, but then Zayn looks him in the eye, unflinching defiance written on his angular features.

“You don’t get to be mad at me for that. You told Liam he could sleep with whoever, and whoever just happened to be me. We both wanted it, and it happened. End of story. Your boyfriend didn’t cheat on you with your best friend, so you don’t get to be hurt and angry and treat me like shit because of it.” Each word out of Zayn’s mouth is an attack, and Louis forgot about this side of him. Zayn’s not all lazy smiles and steady eyes; he is sharp punches, angry jabs, and tense shoulders.

But Louis is too stubborn to let it go, and he looks Zayn right in the eye, the way most people are afraid of doing when he’s really, truly mad. It’s like staring into an explosion, and he so desperately wants to look away, but he can’t.

“He’s my boyfriend, and you’re my best friend,” Louis says hotly. “It’s common sense that you two shouldn’t fuck.”

“You’re such a prick.” Zayn’s all keyed up, anger making him even more beautiful than he was before, and that makes Louis furious. Half of his brain is thinking about kissing Zayn when he should be wholly focused on how unforgivable the situation is. “And you wanna know what–?”

“Louis, if you don’t come inside and do shots with me and Harry, I will kick your sorry arse back to the yanks, y’hear me?” Niall comes onto the balcony in a burst of noise and laughter, throwing a good-natured arm around Louis’ shoulder. He’s entirely oblivious to the scene he walked in on, too drunk to care that Zayn and Louis look like they’re about to start throwing punches.

Louis can feel Zayn’s eyes on him, slanted and furious, but instead of looking at him, he just turns to Niall and gives him a drunken grin, doing his best to look totally unaffected.

“Lead the way, Nialler,” he shouts. He wants to forget everything Zayn said, wants to forget that they’d even had the conversation in the first place. All he wants to do is take shots with Niall and Harry and then find Liam and suck him off until he’s begging for it.

He doesn’t look back at Zayn as they leave the balcony.

~

Louis wakes up to a pillow being thrown straight at his face.

“What the fuck?” he groans, refusing to open his eyes until another one hits him square in the chest. The world is too bright, too loud, and his mouth tastes vaguely of sick – always the sign of a good night.

“What did you say to Zayn?” comes Liam’s voice, all pinched and worried like it gets when Louis eats McDonalds for dinner more than three times a week – which is often.

“What are you talking about?” Louis asks blearily, grabbing his glasses from the bedside table and shoving them crookedly onto his face.

“I come home from my jog and Zayn’s sitting on the porch chain smoking his way through his cigarettes, and he wouldn’t even _look_ at me, and when I ask him what was wrong, he said that you were jealous of me and him?”

“Fuck.” The conversation he had with Zayn last night comes back all at once, hitting him in the chest like a gunshot. “ _Fuck._ ”

“You said you weren’t mad,” Liam says, mouth set in a stubborn line. “You can’t give me a free pass and then take it out on Zayn because that’s not fair, and you know it.”

“I know, Li, I know. I was drunk and angry and stupid –”

Liam cuts him off with a sigh. “Don’t explain it to me. Explain it to him.” Before Louis can say anything else, he walks out of their bedroom, slamming the door pointedly behind him.

~

After sitting by the toilet and dry heaving for a few hours, making himself an ungodly strong cup of coffee, and showering twice, Louis finally feels like enough of a human being to talk to Zayn. He still feels a little nauseous, but he can’t tell if that’s from his hangover or the prospect of what he’s going to have to say. But still, he stares out onto the balcony, watching Zayn take a long, hard drag from his cigarette, before huffing out a deep breath and opening the screen door.

“Oh,” is all Zayn says when he notices Louis, alerted to the other’s presence. He averts his eyes, but he moves his chair to make space for Louis nonetheless. It’s such a Zayn thing to do – even when he’s mad, he leaves just enough room for Louis to come back, should he want to.

Cautiously, Louis sits down, acutely aware of everything around him. The distance between him and Zayn feels charged with electricity, crackling and snapping unpleasantly, so juxtaposed with the usual, easy nature of their friendship.

“So,” Louis says, breaking the silence. “I’m a dick.”

“Yeah. A bit.” Zayn’s expression is unreadable, and Louis hates that about Zayn so much because Zayn’s always been able to hide behind sharp cheekbones and tawny eyes whereas Louis telegraphs everything he’s feeling on his face, even when he doesn’t want to.

“This is me apologizing, Zayn,” Louis sighs, fingers itching to grab one of Zayn’s cigarettes and light it up to stop his heart from beating so, _so_ fast. “I’m trying to say sorry.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Louis has to bite back every retort on the tip of his tongue. “I heard Liam rip you a new one. You’re only apologizing because he made you.”

“Since when have you known me to do shit that I don’t want to do?” Louis snaps. All of his energy, pent up in his chest, breaks through him like a dam giving way, and he can’t stop himself from continuing. “I’m saying I’m sorry, and if that’s not good enough for you –”

“Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?” Zayn interrupts, frustration bleeding into his voice. For the first time since Louis got onto the balcony, he sees emotion – specifically something dark and bitter – flicker across the other’s face.

“I was jealous, and I was drunk, and that’s not necessarily the best combination. I know I was a dick, and I’m saying sorry. What more do you want from me?” Louis snaps defensively. He’d never admit it if he knew he could get away with keeping it close to his chest, but yeah, he’s jealous. The issue is, he’s got no idea who he’s jealous of.

The admission makes Zayn deflate a little, some of the fight fizzling out of him, and Louis can feel palpable relief twisting in his chest because this means the worst of it is over.

“You’ve got nothing to be jealous of,” he says, and Louis notes the hint of bitterness laced in his words. “I promise. Liam’s yours, and I’m yours, just like. Separately. And for separate things. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Kinda felt like I did.” Louis hesitates before he continues because he’s not sure if he should even be telling Zayn this, but if they want to move past this, he has to be as honest as he’s willing to be. “And, um, most of the guys I’ve been with before Liam have always fancied you more than they fancied me.”

“Most of the guys you’ve been with before Liam have been absolute prats,” Zayn says dryly, glancing over at him. There’s an underlying glimmer of amusement in his gaze, and Louis relaxes completely, warmed by the sight of a version of Zayn that’s so intimately familiar to him.

“Yeah,” he agrees with a small, rueful smile. “Yeah, you’re right.”

They lapse into silence, staring out at the busy, bustling London streets. It’s not awkward or strained, just comfortable, both of them off in their own heads. Louis doesn’t feel the need to speak as much around Zayn, to fill up the space with stories and jokes. He can just be.

Zayn’s voice, however, breaks the silence, and Louis glances at him, a little surprised, a little curious.

“You’re enough, Lou. For me, for Liam, and for anyone who matters.”

Louis has to look away, has to stare down at his fingers and his bitten nails, because he’s sure that every reason why he’s in love with Zayn is clearly written on his face.

~

Things are better after that. Louis focuses on enjoying the four months he has before his final year of university starts instead of the fact that is boyfriend’s dick has been in his best friend’s mouth. The thing is, that’s easier said than done because, well, Zayn is just a naturally flirtatious person, Liam’s kind of oblivious, and their miniscule flat means that they’re all basically living on top of each other.

He tries his best not to be jealous because he trusts Liam, and he trusts Zayn, but it’s difficult not to get little snapshots into what must have been happening while he was in New York.

Like right now for example, as Louis tries to fill out some paperwork for his internship. Zayn and Liam are in the kitchen, and he would honestly like to drive his pencil into both of his eardrums instead of listening to them.

“The trick is raising the heat,” Liam says wisely. “That way, you really get things going.”

“Fuck, Li, that looks amazing.” Out of the corner of his eye, Louis can see Zayn leaning over the pot Liam has on the stove. “Smells amazing too.”

“I just threw the leftovers together. It’s no big deal,” Liam shrugs, and Louis can tell he’s blushing. His grip on his pencil tightens, and a muscle in his jaw pops. “You want a taste?”

Louis can’t help himself. He looks up. He watches Zayn crowd closer into Liam’s space as he lifts the spoon to Zayn’s lips. Their eyes are locked as he slurps up the broth, a dribble sliding down his chin. Liam catches it with his thumb, and the pad of his finger lingers for a second too long on Zayn’s full lower lip.

Louis’ going to kill somebody.

Clearing his throat loudly, he slams his notebook shut, haphazardly throwing all of his materials back into his bag.

“Well, I’m going to have a wank,” he says, voice loud and tone frigid. “Liam, if you’re too busy with your _stew_ to join me –”

“It needs to sit for thirty minutes,” Liam interrupts without hesitation, putting the lid on the pot and following Louis out, excited and obedient.

However, Louis doesn’t miss the guilty look Liam throws over his shoulder in Zayn’s direction.

~

“ _Shit._ ” Liam runs a hand through his sweat damp hair, looking absolutely blissed out. Louis just grins, resting his head on Liam’s stomach. “I haven’t come that hard in months.”

“Not even with Zayn?” The question is light, not accusatory. Still, Liam looks at him with reproach in his eyes.

“Can we not do this right now?” he asks, lips frowning downwards into a little pout. “I really don’t want to think about anything other than how phenomenal your mouth is.”

“I’m just curious, is all.” He sits up and flips onto his stomach, propping himself on his elbows. “Honest,” he adds when Liam raises his eyebrows skeptically. “Everyone he’s ever been with has given him rave reviews. I just wanna understand the hype.”

Liam hesitates, pressing his lips together, and just when Louis’ about to suggest they drop the whole thing, he says, “He’s got really good hands.”

That isn’t really news to Louis. He’s watched those hands for hours as they sketch, as they sculpt, as they paint. They’re delicate but sure, full of finesse and passion, and for as long as he could remember, he’s wished they would mold themselves into his skin. But he doesn’t say any of that, instead schooling his expression into one of casual curiosity.

“Oh?” he says, tone egging Liam on. Louis watches him squirm, his cheeks flushing bright, and a spark of arousal threads through him, half at the sight of Liam, half at picturing Zayn putting his beautiful, beautiful hands to work.

“Yeah. They’re, um, not really soft or anything like that, but whatever he does, it’s kind of like…the perfect mix of slow and deliberate.”

Louis licks his lips, scooting closer to Liam, one hand finding the swell of the other’s arse. He feels Liam give a shaky inhale, anticipation thick in the air, and slowly, he slides one finger into Liam’s already wet, stretched out hole.

He exhales heavily, hips rutting back onto Louis’ finger as he twists it inside of him. “Like that?” Louis asks, lips grazing against the shell of Liam’s ear.

“Like that,” Liam repeats back, voice uneven.

“What else?” Louis asks, working a second finger in and barely hiding his smirk at the shallow, desperate gasp that comes from Liam’s lips.

“He’s– relentless. Doesn’t let you get too –” Liam breaks off, a sharp whine escaping his mouth as Louis slips in a third finger without warning, hitting his prostate at the perfect angle. “– comfortable.”

Louis’ hard now too, his dick leaking precome onto the sheets, aroused by some combination of opening Liam up and picturing Zayn doing the exact same thing. He’s jerked from his thoughts by Liam moaning, “Lou, please. Fuck me.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks, breathless. He’s barely long enough to grab a condom and a packet of lube without pulling his fingers out of Liam. “That what you want?”

“More than anything,” Liam begs, grinding back on Louis’ fingers to prove the point. He whimpers when Louis pulls out, hips canting, desperate for sensation. Quickly and efficiently, Louis rolls the condom onto his dick and pulls Liam closer by his hips.

“Did you let Zayn fuck you?” he asks as he lines his cock up with Liam’s hole. He doesn’t wait for the other’s answer before pushing in, a shudder of pleasure going through him when Liam cries out his name, broken and desperate.

“Y-yes,” he answers shakily as Louis bottoms out in one thrust, and – damn that’s hot.

“Did he fuck you rough?” Louis asks, his hips snapping as he thrusts, quick and sharp, into Liam. “Rough, the way you like it?” He holds Liam’s squirming hips in place with one hand, the other lying flat on the center of his back. His thumb rubs a soothing circle over the skin of his back before he pulls out, almost all the way, and with one rough snap of his hips, pushes back in, making Liam groan.

“Never,” Liam whimpers, hips grinding backwards in time with the fast rhythm Louis’ set. “Only you.”

Louis comes quickly after that, over stimulated by Liam clenching tight around his cock and the picture of Zayn, balls deep in Liam, seeing him from exactly this angle. It’s enough to tip him over the edge, and when he comes, he has no idea whose name is on the tip of his tongue.

~

“Remind me why we’re doing this again?” Zayn asks as he laces up his cleats, looking at Louis with a fair amount of skepticism.

“Because I need to practice, and Liam has work. Besides, I feel like we haven’t actually hung out, just us, since I got back.”

“It’s because you’ve been too busy shagging Liam senseless.” Louis opens his mouth, squawking indignantly, but Zayn cuts him off before he can defend himself. “The walls are thin, mate.” Louis’ cheeks flush bright at that because he sincerely hopes that they aren’t too thin. Since they discovered that dirty talk about Zayn riles them both up, he and Liam haven’t really stopped doing that. The thought of Zayn knowing what they’re saying is too embarrassing to entertain.

“I’ve got six months of sex to make up for,” Louis sighs primly. “Cut me some slack.” He pulls his socks up over his shin guards, wrapping his knuckles against the plastic before getting to his feet.

“You ready?” he asks, tucking the ball under his arm.

Zayn nods, although his expression is thoughtful and unreadable. When he sees that Louis’ noticed, he presses his lips together, eyes flicking away.

“You didn’t shag a single guy while you were in the states?” he asks.

“Nope,” Louis shrugs, popping the ‘p’. “None of them were up to my standards.” They walk to the center of the pitch in relative silence, but Louis can tell that Zayn wants to ask more.

“So, none of them were hotter than Liam, then?” he asks after a long, weighted pause. He looks at Louis as though he’s figured it out, this small, knowing smirk curling his lips upwards, and something inside of him is possessed to force Zayn out of his comfort zone as abruptly as possible.

“None of them were hotter than _you_.” As soon as the words are out, he clamps his mouth shut, heart thudding loud in his ribcage. A part of him can’t even believe he said that.

Zayn stops, staring at him, completely dumbfounded. “Louis –”

“Aaaaaand, go!” He drops the ball into play, tearing off down the pitch before he can hear what Zayn has to say, relishing the wind whipping in his face and the feeling of grass beneath his cleats.

“Fucker!” Zayn calls after him, but the expletive is followed by bright, rueful laughter.

They scrimmage easily, running back and forth down the field, both of them maintaining possession fairly equally. Zayn has practiced with Louis enough in the past that he’s actually managed to pick up some skill. It’s fun, relaxing even.

About thirty minutes into their game, Zayn uses a particularly dirty hip check to get the ball away from Louis, sending the smaller boy sprawling back onto the grass. Winded, he lies there, staring up at the cloudless sky.

When Zayn realizes that Louis isn’t following him, though, he turns back worriedly, and the concern only increases when he sees Louis lying still on the grass.

“Shit, Lou, are you okay?” he asks, bending down to get a better look at Louis, who takes the opportunity to grab Zayn’s wrist and yanks him down onto the grass with him.

“You,” Zayn gasps, “are such an asshole.” Before Louis even has time to retaliate, Zayn’s rolling on top of him, and it’s almost natural for them to fall back into old habits, grappling and wrestling in the lush green of the field. Zayn’s all around Louis, his arms scrabbling, his chest heaving, and all Louis can think about is the smell of grass, sweat, and Gucci.

At some point, they stop, both breathing heavily. Zayn’s got Louis pinned, his thigh slotted in between Louis’, and the only thing in the world is the plush pink of Zayn’s lower lip and the way his eyelashes fan out over his bronzed skin. If Louis were to just shift his head upwards and cant his hips, he could –

“Fuck,” he shouts when Zayn springs off him, stealing the ball and dribbling away before Louis can even get back on his feet. “Fuck,” he repeats, a little quieter this time, and turns away from Zayn to adjust his half hard dick in his joggers.

~

Louis comes home from his internship feeling like a wrung out dishtowel. He feels like he has a million more things to do – reschedule a dentist’s appointment, renew his renter’s insurance, call his mum – but for the life of him, he can’t find the energy to do any of them. He’ll figure it out tomorrow, sure, but that doesn’t stop the sharp twinge of guilt knowing that it’s been over a week since he last spoke to his mum or his sisters.

But he’s too exhausted to dwell on that now; all of his limbs feel stretched out and sore, and all he wants to do is cuddle with someone – preferably Liam or Zayn – until he falls asleep.

Stepping out of his shoes, he undoes the buttons of his shirt and tosses it onto the floor before grabbing a tank top off of the top of his laundry pile. As he’s pushing his arms through the sleeves, he hears laughter echoing from the balcony, and he turns.

It’s Liam and Zayn, and they’re sharing a cigarette outside. Louis tries to be charmed by it, tries to smile because he knows he’s supposed to be over the whole jealousy thing, but he isn’t. It’s so easy to imagine both of them falling for each other and then leaving him all alone, and that’s terrifying. In these two people, he’s found a home. Without them, he doesn’t know what he would do.

He should probably just sleep for the next twelve hours, but he knows that he’d just toss and turn, wondering what’s going on out on the balcony, wishing he was there to be the center of attention, to know, for sure, that at least in that moment, Zayn and Liam are his.

So, instead of heading to his room, he grabs the old coffee canister full of weed and his piece, and heads outside.

“Hey Lou,” Zayn says, smiling when he sees him. His eyes flicker to the items in Louis’ hands. “Bad day?”

“Miserable,” Louis sighs, pecking Liam on the cheek before settling into a seat between them and setting himself to work packing the bowl. His hands are deft and capable, and he can feel both pairs of eyes watching them move. “You lot wanna join me?”

“When have you ever known me to turn down weed?” Zayn asks, amusement coloring his voice. Louis grins at him before glancing at Liam, eyebrows raised.

“I’ll have a few hits, yeah,” he says, rubbing his cigarette against the edge of the balcony to put it out. “Haven’t smoked with you guys in a while.”

“Because you do healthy things like _jog_.” Louis shudders dramatically.

“Next thing you know, Harry’ll have him drinking kale smoothies and buying a juicer,” Zayn adds, amusement lacing his words, his eyes crinkling up as Louis fake gags.

“I’ll shave his fucking head if he even tries,” he declares. Liam, for his part, looks split evenly between laughing with Zayn and Louis and telling them off, and Louis feels more comfortable with the three of them than he has in a long time. This is how things are supposed to be – easy banter and warm smiles, sensible Liam versus rowdy Louis with Zayn effortlessly switching sides.

He relaxes a little into his chair, the reason why he’d come outside in the first place not forgotten. He grabs his piece as the laughter dies down, raising it to his lips and lighting the bowl. As he takes the smoke into his lungs, he can feel both of them staring at him, the mood of the balcony shifting imperceptibly. He knows that he’s hot when he smokes, all reckless confidence and pretty pink lips, and it doesn’t help that his shirt shows off his arms, more toned since he was in the States, and the sharp definition of his collar bones.

Sure, they might want each other, but Louis’ll be damned if they forget they want him too.

He exhales the smoke in a thick plume, watching it curl in the air. The bowl is still going though, so he takes another hit, breathing it deep, deep, deep into his lungs. When he lets it out, he can feel the barest tingles of _something_ starting just underneath his skin.

“Damn,” Liam whistles, and Louis smiles. Liam’s so easy to rile up, to push his buttons and get a reaction. Instead of offering the piece to him, however, he lights it, taking another hit, and passes it to Zayn. The frown falls straight off Liam’s face when Louis pulls him close, slotting their lips together, and breathes the smoke into the other’s mouth.

Liam _barely_ pulls off to sigh out his blowback before he’s kissing Louis for real. There’s intent behind his mouth, his teeth catching Louis’ lower lip and sucking, and _shit_. Zayn’s right there, smoke filtering from his lips, and his eyes are glued to Louis and Liam as though he can’t even help himself. When Liam’s hand slips under the waistband of his trousers, it feels a little bit like he’s giving Zayn a show, and Louis’ not sure if he loves that or hates it. Still, he’s grateful when Liam draws back, licking his lips and staring at Louis’ mouth. Any longer, and he’d have started rubbing Liam off right there and then, Zayn be damned.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” he says, breathless and pointed. “You coming, Lou?”

He’s half torn between following Liam out and staying on the balcony to finish up his bowl; ultimately, the latter wins because he’s already a little stoned, and if he doesn’t smoke more, he’ll just fall asleep in the middle of whatever Liam decides to do to him.

“Once I finish this.” Louis kisses Liam with tongue so that he knows he’s not being brushed off. He pulls Liam close, lips grazing against the other’s ear. His voice is quiet, but if Zayn really wanted to listen to what he’s saying, he could. “Open yourself up for me, yeah? I wanna fuck you so hard that you’ll be able to feel me for days.”

Liam’s cheeks flush, and he nods before leaving, closing the balcony door behind him.

“Thought you two weren’t into PDA,” Zayn comments mildly, breaking the tense silence. Louis glances over at him, eyebrows raised. He watches Zayn take a hit, does his best not to stare directly at Zayn’s mouth, and gratefully accepts the piece, lighting the bowl for himself and taking as much smoke as he can stand into his lungs. The way Zayn’s looking at him is too much, and he needs the weed to curb the intensity of it.

“Did it bother you?” he asks, tongue loose, the tingling moving from under his skin to his chest, to his thighs, to his throat. “Get you worked up?” Louis licks his lips, looking at Zayn with sharp, piercing eyes.

It’s dark outside, but not dark enough that Louis can’t see the barest flush of Zayn’s cheeks. If that wasn’t a give away, though, the way he shifts in his seat, hand lowering to his crotch is all Louis needs to see to know that this is getting to him. He thinks about the last time they were truly alone together, about how he’d been close enough to kiss Zayn, and he kicks himself because he didn’t.

It seems like forever later when Zayn answers his question, the heated silence stretching, taut with everything they weren’t saying.

“I’m only human. Not my fault if you two are– a lot to handle,” he finishes delicately. He doesn’t look at Louis, though, and the nonchalance is so painfully forced that Louis almost feels bad. He’s pushing them towards something they’ve both ignored for years, and he doesn’t know if he’s exhilarated or terrified.

They lapse back into silence as Louis hands Zayn the piece. Their palms brush, and it feels electric, like some sort of fuse is short-circuiting in his stomach, sending sparks of heat through his body. Zayn’s face, however, is unreadable.

He takes a big hit, a huge one, and he holds it in longer than Louis thinks is possible. But Louis doesn’t care about that. All he can do is stare at the hollow of Zayn’s throat, the sharpness of his jawline, and the delicate strength of his hands.

He gives the piece back to Louis, who takes a hit immediately, mostly to distract the thoughts bouncing around in his brain. But the weed only makes it worse, and, smoke burning his throat, impulse seizing his muscles, he leans into Zayn’s space, exhaling into the other’s mouth.

Zayn doesn’t even flinch. He just moves towards Louis as if this was entirely inevitable and curls one hand at the nape of his neck.

They stay like that, faces closes and chest rising, even as Zayn lets the smoke out. It’s like the football pitch all over again, and Louis can’t stand the thought of not kissing Zayn, of not feeling the fullness of his lips pressed against his own.

In the end, he doesn’t know who kisses who, but that doesn’t matter. Zayn is warm and gentle underneath him, and this feels so much like home, like Yorkshire tea and Christmas morning, and he doesn’t know why they fought this for so long.

When they break apart, Zayn’s expression reflects exactly how Louis feels. He has this confused, shocked little smile on his face, as though he never thought, in a million years, that this would happen, but now that it has, he doesn’t know what was so big and terrifying about it.

But just like that, the look vanishes as his gaze fixes on a spot above Louis’ shoulder.

“Liam,” he says, and any relief Louis feels comes crashing down around his ears. He turns his head so fast that is neck cricks, just to see the tan line of Liam’s back heading back into their room. The door shuts with a loud bang.

Louis is on his feet in an instant, racing after him. He hears Zayn calling his name, but he doesn’t look back.

Pushing open the door, Louis has no idea what to expect. He supposes tears and jealousy and betrayal are probably all safe bets, but what he doesn’t bet on is Liam in bed, back to Louis, duvet pulled up to his shoulders.

Tentatively, he lies down next to Liam, resting a hand on the other’s hip.

“Li?” he asks, quiet and uncertain.

The only answer he gets is the forcibly even sound of Liam’s breathing

~

Liam isn’t there when Louis wakes up. His side of the bed isn’t even warm anymore, and Louis doesn’t know how to process that. They’ve had fights before but usually, they’re loud and explosive, not silent and tense. This feels different somehow, like something has broken beyond repair, and Louis’ brain just refuses to understand that.

Unfortunately, he has the day off, and Zayn’s got summer classes, Niall and Harry are up in Mullingar, and he can barely stomach the idea of going home on his good days, let alone his bad, so he’s totally and completely alone with his thoughts, which is never good.

By the time he hears the door open, late in the afternoon, he’s smoked his way through an entire pack of cigarettes, his throat burns, his hands are shaking, and he hasn’t felt this off kilter since his parents got divorced.

It’s Liam, thankfully. He doesn’t think he could handle seeing Zayn right now. But as soon as he sees the expression on Liam’s face, he almost wishes it was Zayn. Liam looks like this is the last place in the world he wants to be, and that stings like getting hand sanitizer in a paper cut.

Yes, Louis shouldn’t have kissed Zayn, but he didn’t think it would rip a hole straight through his relationship. He’s kissed girls at clubs while Liam watched, and Liam’s kissed guys at bars to rile Louis up; they’re both so sure of their feelings for each other that everything else doesn’t seem to matter. But _this_ matters – at least to Liam – and Louis doesn’t understand, but he wants to. More than anything, he wants to understand so that they can fix this.

“Liam,” Louis says, feeling unbearably small. “I’m sorry.”

Liam doesn’t seem to hear him. He won’t even look at Louis, eyes fixed on the carpet and its shitty upholstery.

“I think we should stop seeing each other.” The words are sudden, so sudden that Louis’ sure he’s misheard. Even Liam seems a little shocked that he said them, blinking rapidly as if to clear his head. But when he doesn’t say anything else, waiting expectantly for Louis to respond, that’s when it sinks in, the sentiment of it, and Louis needs a cigarette so badly. His heart is racing, his mouth is dry, and he doesn’t know how to do this.

“It was just a kiss,” Louis pleads, and he hates that what he really wants to say is so apparent in his words: _Don’t leave me, please. I need you. I love you._ He’s begging, and he knows it. Liam knows it too. More than that, he’s lying. It wasn’t just a kiss, but he’ll say anything to keep Liam.

“It wasn’t, though,” Liam says, and Louis’ heart aches for him. He doesn’t want Liam to leave, but he knows what this feels like. Liam and Zayn weren’t just friends who fucked, and Louis and Zayn weren’t just friends who kissed. He knows what this is, but he still doesn’t understand. 

“I’m not blind, Louis. I can see the way you look at him.” He inhales, taking a deep breath before continuing, and Louis can see the toll this is taking on him, the hands curled into fists, nails digging into palms, and weariness settling into features that are so usually full of life. “And it was fine before because I could also see the way you look at me. I thought that was enough, that everything else didn’t matter, but –” He smiles, rueful. “Now that you know how he feels, why would you want to be with me?”

Louis stares at him blankly, heart beating scarily fast in his chest. He could play dumb and say that he has no idea what Liam’s talking about, but that feels so terribly disrespectful and totally unfair. He wants to say that it doesn’t matter, that he still wants to be with Liam, because it’s true, and he does, but his head is too muddled to find the words.

Before he realizes what’s happening, Liam’s drawing close to him, pressing a soft, sad kiss to his lips. He pulls back, and his eyes are wet.

“Goodbye, Lou,” he says, and Louis’ too shocked to stop him from leaving. The sound of the flat door slamming shut is too sudden and too loud, and Louis jumps at the noise.

Hands shaking, he reaches for his phone. Zayn picks up after two rings.

~

Louis heads to Zayn’s studio because he can’t stay in the apartment without feeling like he’s going to throw up. The walls are starting to close in on him, and everything in the flat reminds him of Liam.

The evening air does him some good too, cool against his skin. It’s like a shock, a slap, and he needs that, because everything felt like a haze before, and now, he feels overly alert, every single sound catching his attention. It also makes him confront the harsh realities of the situation: Liam’s gone. He loves Liam, and he’s gone. He loves Zayn too, but choosing between them is like choosing between oxygen or water, Daisy or Phoebe, his past or his present. It’s an impossible task, and he wishes that it had never been thrust upon him, because when it comes down to big decisions, nine times out of ten, he chooses wrong.

The walk through the art building is familiar, and Zayn looks up when he hears Louis shut the studio door behind him. It’s a quiet space, a sacred space, and everything is thrown around in an organized sort of chaos that only makes sense to Zayn. Being here is more of a comfort than he would have guessed. It feels like he’s inside of Zayn’s brain, and that feels safe.

“Hey,” Zayn says, putting down his paintbrush and rubbing paint stained hands on his jeans. “What’s going on? You sounded upset on the phone.” The concern pricking his voice, regardless of everything, is honestly so welcome, and Louis can’t help crossing the room, stepping into his space, and hugging him tightly. Zayn doesn’t even question it, arms wrapping around his middle, head nestling into his shoulder.

“Liam broke up with me,” Louis mumbles. His skin feels itchy, and his eyes sting. “He’s gone.”

Zayn doesn’t say anything to that, just cards a hand through Louis’ hair and brushes through it just the way Louis likes it. The silent comfort does more than any words could have, the mere presence of another person lifting his mood. Louis has always been grateful for that with Zayn; there’s no need to say everything out loud. Sometimes, silence doesn’t have to be suffocating.

They break apart, Louis rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. Zayn’s gaze is fixed on him, and Louis can feel it unsettling him a little, but there’s no heat, no pressure, only concern.

“You’ll figure it out,” he says, quiet and kind. “You always do.” He steps into Louis’ space, lips brushing chastely against his cheek, and he’s about to turn back to his canvas when Louis reaches out. His fingers latch on Zayn’s forearm and hold him in place. They stand like that, frozen, neither of them daring to move.

It happens all at once. Louis’ tipping forwards, and Zayn’s meeting him half way, and their mouths are melding together. Zayn kisses like a promise, no hesitancy or uncertainty, just unflinching commitment, and Louis wants to drown in that. Nobody wants him enough to stay, but right here, right now, it feels like Zayn could give him forever.

But as quickly as it starts, it’s over. Louis lurches forwards with the surprise of Zayn’s absence, and he watches the other pull back, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“No,” Zayn says, his voice harsher than Louis’ ever heard it. “I’m not doing this again.”

“I never asked you to,” Louis snaps back, immediately defensive. He doesn’t know why Zayn’s pushing him away, but it _hurts_ , and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t fight back.

“Yes, you did. By coming here, by looking the way you do…” he trails off, exhaling deeply before starting again. “I’m not your replacement boyfriend that you can come to when your real boyfriend isn’t around. I deserve more than that. And it’s not fair for you to put me in that situation.”

“Zayn, I never said that –”

“The first time you’ve shown any interest in me, it’s been because things are bad with you and Liam. And like, I get it. I’m pretty, and I’m here, but you can’t just use me like that.”

Zayn’s breathing comes in shallow, upset bursts, his eyes are very large, and his jaw is set in a stubborn frown. Louis is honestly at a loss for words. He doesn’t know how to say that he’s loved Zayn since they were twelve, how he never thought that anything would happen, so he never said anything because right now, he knows that Zayn won’t believe him.

“Zayn,” he tries, desperation edging his voice. But the other just shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips.

“Don’t.” The word punctures the air between them, torqueing through the space like a bullet.

“What do you want from me?” Louis asks, trying to temper down his frustration. “Whatever you want, Zayn, I’ll do it.”

“I want you to go.” The words are definitive, and there’s blankness behind Zayn’s dark eyes that Louis doesn’t understand. He turns away from Louis, returning to his canvas, and pointedly shoves headphones into his ears.

“Zayn,” he tries one last time, but when the other doesn’t turn, he exhales wearily and shoulders his way out of the studio.

~

Louis is drunk.

Wonderfully, blissfully drunk with some boy – Tyler, he thinks is his name – touching him all over. He didn’t exactly plan on hooking up with anyone, but one drink had led to another, and Tyler hadn’t been able to stop staring at his mouth all night. And, well, fuck it. Louis deserved to feel wanted, to feel like the whole world revolved around him. Getting dumped by Liam and then turned down by Zayn in the span of twenty-four hours hadn’t exactly done wonders for his self-esteem. Sure, it’s been two weeks, but the pain of it hasn’t dulled.

So, he’s stumbling into his flat at three in the morning with a boy attached to him by the lips. Tyler’s hands work their way up under his shirt, giving his nipple a sharp twist before tugging his shirt over his head.

A loud crash echoes through the silent apartment when Tyler knocks over a stack of books resting on an end table in an effort to get Louis out of his jeans, and Louis shushes him, pressing a hand over his mouth.

“Quiet,” he whispers, tone authoritative. “My roommates –”

“What was that?” comes Liam’s muffled groan from somewhere over Louis’ shoulder.

He turns, eyes wide, and his stomach drops when he sees Liam lying on top of Zayn’s chest on the couch, an empty bottle of wine on the coffee table and only a t-shirt draped over them giving them any semblance of modesty.

Liam stares at him, drunk and debauched, and so does Zayn. Louis looks away. He can’t do this, not right now.

“C’mon,” he mumbles to Tyler. “Let’s go.”

~

Louis basically moves out after that. He spends one morning gathering all of his essentials and shows up on Niall’s doorstep with an overflowing duffle and a bottle of tequila. Niall just glances between him and the bottle before shrugging, opening the bottle, and telling him he can have the couch.

Harry and Niall are really good about having him, not complaining that Louis’ stuff is taking up most of their living room space and simply help him lug them up the stairs. It’s nice, having people who care about him and have no real expectations.

Well, mostly nice. The couch is a little too lumpy for him to sleep through the night, Niall’s farts stink up the entire apartment, and Harry refuses to stock the kitchen with anything other than organic produce and kale chips.

It’s not the same as it is living with Liam and Zayn, and he tries not to let that show, but he knows that Niall and Harry can see that.

“Are you gonna talk to them?” Harry asks one night after dinner, pointedly keeping his gaze focused on the dishes he’s washing. Louis can feel Niall’s gaze hot on the back of his neck from where he stands, leaning against the fridge, sipping at his beer.

“Maybe,” is all Louis says before leaving the kitchen and climbing up the fire escape, cigarettes and lighter in hand.

It goes like that for a week and then two, and Louis’ essentially given up on Zayn and Liam. He tries not to think about them, but he always ends up doing just that. He wonders if they’re together. He wonders if they’re happy. He wonders if they miss him. He wonders if they want him back.

He’s walking back to Niall and Harry’s, and he sees the hill where he and Zayn used to smoke when they lived on campus, where he and Liam had their first kiss. He tries not to be upset about losing them, but rather glad that he had them at all to begin with.

The second he realizes what he’s doing, though, he stops. It’s Harry’s Zen bullshit rubbing off on him, and he absolutely hates it. He doesn’t want to calmly accept what’s happening to him. He wants to be angry and upset and throw tantrums because that’s what you do when you lose people.

“Lou?”

Zayn’s voice crashes through his subconscious, and he’s almost half certain he imagined it, but nope. There he is. Pretty as ever, wearing glasses and an expression filled with hesitancy and disbelief, almost as though he hadn’t been able to stop himself from calling Louis’ name.

Louis has to stop. It’s Zayn. They could have ignored each other for twenty years, and Louis would still stop.

“Yeah?” Louis says, trying to keep his expression devoid of any of the emotions he’s actually feeling. It’s hard though, and he knows he’s failing by the way Zayn looks at him – apologetic and guilty.

“Are you coming home?” It’s the question of the century, and Zayn blurts it out without any sort of warning.

“I’m not sure,” he says after a long pause. At least he’s being honest. He’s decided he wants to be better at that, at saying what he feels when he feels it, and this is his first attempt. So far, it’s going well. It hurts, but he expected that.

“Liam misses you.” It looks like it pains Zayn to say the words, and Louis’ automatic instinct is to reach out for him, to help him. But he doesn’t. He feels like he would be crossing some sort of line that both of them drew in the sand, but neither of them asked for.

“Do you miss me?” Louis asks before he can lose his nerve.

“All the time.” Zayn’s response is immediate, the emotion in his voice jagged and raw. “I thought I couldn’t miss you more than when you were in New York, but nothing’s worse than missing you and knowing that you’re a five minute walk away.” He looks at Louis with large, wet eyes, and his voice breaks when he speaks. “Please come home, Lou. I don’t know what to do without you.”

“What about Liam?” Louis can’t help himself. He can’t stop the question from leaving his lips, can’t put his own petty jealousy on pause to protect Zayn. He wishes he were a better person, a person that Zayn deserved, but he isn’t. “You have him.”

Zayn jerks his head away from Louis as though he’s been slapped, a hand rising to his mouth. He bites down on his knuckles, tears streaking down his cheeks and catching in his beard.

“Everyone wants me, Lou, but nobody loves me. That’s you,” he says, with a small, bitter smile, his voice cracking and breaking as he speaks. “You’re the one everyone loves. Everything me and Liam did while you were gone – it’s because we were the closest thing we had to you.” He pauses, staring down at the ground. “Liam loves you, and…” He stops, inhaling deeply, before looking Louis square in the eyes. “I love you. So. No, I don’t have him.”

Louis feels winded. There’s no other way of describing it. He fantasized for years what it would be like if Zayn reciprocated his feelings; he always thought he would feel immense relief or unbelievable joy, but that’s not what’s happening right now. He doesn’t know how he feels, he just wishes that this had all happened in a way that hadn’t left Zayn feeling so broken.

“I don’t need you to love me back,” Zayn says, rushing through the words. “I don’t care about that. I just need you to come home. Please.”

Louis exhales. There’s something freeing about losing everything, but he’s sick of feeling like he’ll float away at any second. He needs a tether.

Wordlessly, he steps forwards and kisses Zayn. He kisses Zayn like he thinks the other deserves to be kissed – slow and soft and sweet. He tries to put every ounce of love he’s ever felt for the other into the kiss. _You’re enough_ , he tries to say, wrapping his arms around Zayn’s neck and tilting further into him. _You’re enough, and I love you._

When they break apart, Zayn looks a little dazed. Louis reaches up and wipes away the tears on the other’s cheeks, rubbing them away on his jeans.

“What was that?” Zayn asks, quiet and uncertain.

“If you ever feel like no one loves you, I want you to find me,” Louis says unflinchingly, hands cradling Zayn’s face close. “Because I will _always_ love you, okay?” His heart speeds up as he says the words, and he can’t believe he’s saying them out loud, but the relief that spreads across Zayn’s face makes it all worth it.

“Really?”

“Yes, really, you dick,” Louis quips, although there’s no heat to his words. “Now let’s go home. I’m bloody starving. All I’ve eaten for the past two weeks is kale chips.”

~

“So, that’s why you hated Amanda?” Zayn asks around a mouthful of noodles. The two of them ordered take away as soon as they got home, and now, they’re sitting on the floor, eating rice and noodles straight out of the container. Louis just shrugs, taking a sip of beer as he does so.

“I mean, she was a right bitch, but yeah, before we all realized that, I hated her because I was jealous,” Louis shrugs. It’s so easy to talk about this now, now that they both realize that everything they felt was reciprocated tenfold.

“ Well, Miguel was worse,” Zayn shoots back, picking through his food with his chopsticks. “At least Amanda tried to be nice to you.”

“Literally, the only reason I stayed with him was because you were with Kyle,” Louis sighs loftily. “It’s your fault, really. I demand those six weeks of my life back.”

“Yeah?” Zayn asks, amused, eyebrows rising. He looks at Louis, all languid and lazy, like some large jungle cat, eyes flashing with heat. “Any more demands you got for me?”

Louis chokes on his rice, cheeks flushing bright pink. He gulps down a good third of his beer before looking at Zayn, lips pressing together, mouth suddenly very dry. Zayn’s looking at him like he’s imagining everything he wants to do to him, and the room feels very hot and very small all at once.

“I can think of a few,” Louis says, trying to keep his voice even and casual. His eyes flick down to Zayn’s mouth, and he stares at it, licking his own lips. “But I’d rather let you take whatever you want.”

Zayn inhales a shaky breath, and Louis can’t help but let pride warm his chest. _He’s_ done this. He’s pushing Zayn to this point, and fuck, Zayn wants it. He can see how gone for it Zayn is, and that’s enough to make Louis’ dick give an interested twitch in his pants.

“Come here,” Zayn orders, voice pitched low. He spreads his legs, and Louis crawls into the space made for him, chasing Zayn’s mouth hungrily, but the other boy just turns his head to the side.

“No,” he says sharply. “Not yet. Not until I say so.”

Louis raises his eyebrows, trying to conceal the way that Zayn’s authoritative words have gone straight to his dick. With Liam, he was always in control, and he liked it that way because Liam liked it, but now, with Zayn, it’s different. Liam always thought Louis hung the moon, but Zayn never put up with his shit. Zayn challenges him, and he relishes that.

So, he stays still and lets Zayn do what he wants. Slow and sure, the other boy peals off his shirt, his hands rubbing up and down Louis’ sides. Then, he tilts his head forwards, his tongue swirling around Louis’ nipple for a moment before teasing it with his teeth. Louis gasps out at that, swearing loudly because Zayn _knows_ how sensitive his nipples are, and this is just unfair.

“Could you come from just that?” Zayn practically purrs, staring Louis straight in the eye as he raises a hand to twist and rub Louis’ other nipple between his thumb and his index finger. Louis squirms, gasping out, too preoccupied with the sensation to answer. “You could, couldn’t you?”

“Maybe,” Louis says with a shaky exhale. Zayn’s eyes are all pupil when he kisses Louis, sharp and biting, and Louis loves the roughness of it. Zayn can kiss like a promise, but he can also kiss like a hurricane, like something all consuming and destructive. “But you can do better than that.”

Zayn’s eyes flash with the promise of a challenge, and without warning, he pushes Louis back so that his shoulder blades connect soundly with the floor. Louis gasps at the roughness of it, hips canting upwards involuntarily. Zayn shirks off his own shirt while Louis watches, but he slaps away Louis’ hands when he reaches out to touch him. Louis has to admit that it’s hot that they’re doing this entirely on Zayn’s terms, and a small, shallow gasp exhales from his lips at the thought.

“Take your jeans off,” Zayn says breathlessly. Louis obliges, wriggling out of his skinnies and pulling his pants down with them. His dick, hard and thick, pops up out of his briefs, and Zayn stares at it with absolute adoration. Louis feels heat flush underneath his skin, practically preening at the attention. He takes Zayn by the wrist, moving the other’s hand down to wrap around his erection. Zayn doesn’t even complain that Louis’ going off his script and just closes his eyes.

His mouth parted, his breath coming in shallow spurts, he strokes Louis’ dick with slow, easy pumps of his fist. It’s not exactly the most comfortable because of the lack of lube, but Louis really doesn’t mind. The slight edge of pain is more than welcome.

Without warning, Zayn bends to take him into his mouth, and Louis cries out in surprise. The difference in sensation sends his mind reeling, and he’s hard pressed to do anything but lie back and let Zayn take him where he will. His hips give an involuntary jerk upward, but Zayn’s hands hold them down, hard enough to bruise.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Louis groans out. This is too much. Zayn’s tongue licks a stripe up the underside of Louis’ cock and then swirls around the head before taking him all the way into his mouth so that the tip of his dick is hitting the back of Zayn’s throat. Louis has been on the receiving end of his fair share of blowjobs, but this feels different. Zayn is so wholly focused on pushing the two of them further, his actions so centered on Louis’ pleasure, and somehow, Louis _knows_ that this side of Zayn is just for him. 

Zayn pulls off just before Louis’ about to come and finds his mouth, kissing him so slowly that Louis feels dizzy. His dick trapped between them, Zayn sucking hotly on his lip, he chases the taste of himself off of the other’s tongue. But Zayn pulls back, replacing his mouth with two fingers dragging against his lower lip. A knowing glint to his eyes, Louis takes them into his mouth, making a show of hollowing out his cheeks and sucking on them. A small groan shudders through Zayn, and Louis can’t help but preen a little bit at the noise.

Zayn’s mouth finds his cock again, but it’s less insistent this time, slower, more careful, and it makes Louis feel like he can finally catch his breath. He lets himself get lost in the wetness, in the heat of it, and relishes the slow, steady build of his pleasure.

He’s about to say something to goad Zayn into pushing this further, but it’s as though Zayn reads his mind. With the two fingers that had been in Louis’ mouth, Zayn traces the cleft of Louis’ arse before teasing the rim of his hole, and the surprise makes Louis cry out. Just as Zayn circles his slit with his tongue, he pushes two fingers inside, and the pleasure of it is blinding.

“Zayn,” Louis shouts breathlessly, his body shaking from so much stimulation. “Oh my god, Zayn.”

It doesn’t take much longer after that. The combination of Zayn’s mouth and his fingers is enough to reduce Louis to an incoherent mess, and it only takes a few thrusts of Zayn’s fingers and one well planned lick of his tongue before Louis’ coming.

Zayn doesn’t pull off, just swallows down all of Louis’ cum without complaint, and Louis is too spent to react to that, but he catalogues the mental image for later.

After wiping his mouth on the back of his discarded t-shirt, Zayn crawls up and rests his head on Louis’ shoulder, even though his skin is sticky with sweat, and throws one arm over his abdomen.

“Your turn,” Louis says breathlessly, reaching to slide his hand down the front of Zayn’s pants, but he just nuzzles closer, shaking his head.

“Already came,” Zayn mumbles sleepily, eyes shut. “Creamed my pants like an overeager sixteen year old.”

Louis’ brain shuts down for a second at that, his mouth open and his eyes wide. He wants to gloat, but Zayn’s already asleep.

~

Sleeping with Zayn brings Louis a sort of clarity regarding his love life that he’s never had. He loves Zayn, _and_ he loves Liam, and there’s nothing wrong with that. This whole time, he’d been going about it the wrong way, thinking that he had to choose or his world would come crashing down around his ears. But the truth of it is that he wants to be with both of them for different reasons, and all he can do is hope that they want the same thing.

However, Liam still isn’t speaking to him, hasn’t responded to a single one of his texts since they split up, and Louis doesn’t think he’ll start any time soon. He hasn’t even been back to the flat since Louis moved back in, and Louis can tell because there’s take away in the fridge with Liam’s name written on it, and it’s starting to get moldy. Liam “I hate wasting food” Payne would never let that happen voluntarily.

“You have to ask Liam to come over,” Louis says to Zayn one morning over breakfast. Zayn just glances up from his cereal, eyebrows raised.

“You do it,” he sulks. “He’s _your_ ex.”

Louis’ eyes widen in surprise. He’s never seen Zayn react so viscerally to anything before ten in the morning. “What crawled up your arse and died?” The other boy doesn’t say anything, just pushes around his cereal, but when he sees that Louis isn’t relenting, he lets out a sharp sigh before taking a long gulp of coffee.

“I miss him.” Louis watches Zayn stare down at his hands and pick darkly at a hangnail. “It’s stupid. He only ever wanted to fuck me when he missed you, but I– I let him.” Louis’ features soften as Zayn winces in pain, sucking on his pinky finger as the skin bleeds. “He doesn’t give a shit about me, but I miss him.”

“Zayn,” Louis sighs, a small, sad smile spreading across his features. “When will you realize that people love you?” Zayn scoffs, pushing his seat away from the table with a loud squeal and busying himself with the mountain of dishes, but Louis can tell that he’s listening because his body lacks its usual lazy grace.

“Liam doesn’t do one offs. He doesn’t do casual sex. When he told me that the two of you had been hooking up while I was gone, the reason I was jealous was because I knew that meant he had feelings for you. So, pull your head out of your arse, and stop thinking that people don’t know how to love you because they do. We do.”

Zayn puts a plate down with a clatter, hands gripping the edge of the counter so hard that his knuckles are white. Louis goes to him because he’s never known how to stay away, arms wrapping around the other’s middle, chin tucking itself over his shoulder. Zayn relaxes a little bit, curving his body into Louis’, but both of them can feel how fast his heart is racing.

After a long moment, Zayn speaks. “Are you sure? About Liam, I mean.”

“I wouldn’t give you false hope, Z. I’m not _that_ much of a dick.” Louis feels a small chuckle vibrate through Zayn where his chest is pressed to the other’s back. He kisses the crook of Zayn’s neck, nosing at the soft skin there. “The real question is what do you want to do from here?”

Zayn twists in Louis’ arms, and Louis can see him trying to find an answer, sees the way the other’s dark eyes flicker over his face almost in desperation. “You can’t make me choose,” he says finally, his jaw set into a stubborn line. “I don’t want to choose.”

“Then don’t.”

Zayn stares at him incredulously, opening his mouth to argue, but the simplicity of Louis’ suggestion settles over him, and uncertainty immediately replaces his defiance. “You really think it could work?” he asks finally. Louis hears the barest hint of hope in Zayn’s voice, and that’s all the validation he needs. If Zayn wants this too, then maybe, just maybe, this might not be totally out of the realm of possibility.

“I don’t see why not,” Louis shrugs. He watches Zayn think, watches him work over the idea in his brain, and does his best to keep the impatience from filtering through onto his face. He can’t help himself; now that the possibility has been planted in his mind, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to let it go.

“I’ll think about it okay?”

Louis tries not to bet too disappointed with the other’s answer. He does understand the need for time, the need to process, even if it’s not as immediately accessible to him right now. It took him over a year to figure it all out, and he refuses to rob Zayn of that luxury.

But still, he smiles when Zayn kisses his lips lightly and sidesteps out of his arms to go to his room. At least, nothing will be able to take away the feeling of being loved by these two boys, even if they couldn’t love him at the same time.

~

Louis and Zayn are playing Mario Kart when Liam pushes through the door of the apartment, his expression already set into one of businesslike impersonality. It’s been a week since he and Zayn talked, and Louis thought he’d forgotten all about it, but there Liam is, and his heart rises to his throat because _fuck_ , he’s missed him.

“Alright,” Liam says sharply, looking between the two of them. “I’m here. What is it?”

Zayn and Louis look between each other, similar expressions of uncertainty reflected on both of their features. Liam’s trying so hard not to care, trying so hard to make them think he’s indifferent, and Louis can see right through it. He almost wishes he couldn’t because he can see how much this is hurting him.

“Liam,” Louis says, getting to his feet. Liam looks away immediately.

“I didn’t come here for you,” he mutters. “I came for Zayn.” The words sting, like rubbing alcohol on an open wound, and Louis presses his lips together before he says something he’ll regret.

“Be fair, Li,” Zayn sighs from the couch, looking at the other boy with large, earnest eyes. “He doesn’t deserve that.”

“It’s _more_ than fair.” The pain in Liam’s voice is evident, and he still refuses to look at Louis, gaze fixed on Zayn. “He left us.”

“Only because we left him.” The words hang in the air between the three of them, and Louis doesn’t dare look at either of them. The conversation seems private, seems like one they had over and over again while Louis was gone. “Just. Listen to what he has to say, okay? He deserves that much.”

Normally, Louis would detest the idea of someone needing to vouch for him because if people didn’t want to listen to him of their own accord, he wasn’t going to _force_ them. But this is much more than a minor slight to his pride. He finally looks up, looks right at Liam, and finds that the other boy is looking back at him. They stare at each other for a moment before Liam exhales, all of the tension leaving his shoulders. He nods slowly before saying, “Okay.”

He sits down in the armchair across from the couch that Louis and Zayn were occupying. Instead of sitting back down next to Zayn, though, Louis grabs a chair from the kitchen and sits down. It feels a little silly, but it also feels important for all of them to know that they’re all individuals. It isn’t LouisandZayn against Liam or ZaynandLiam against Louis. It’s just the three of them trying to work this out.

“I understand why you ended things,” Louis says diplomatically, looking at Liam. “I didn’t know what I wanted then. Well. I did. I knew I wanted you, and I knew I wanted Zayn, but I didn’t know what to do with any of it. I should have been honest with you from the start, and for that, I’m sorry.”

Liam doesn’t look at him, instead choosing to stare at a spot above his shoulder, his hands twisting in his lap. When he does speak, there’s a strain to his voice that Louis doesn’t understand.

“It means a lot that you’re saying this,” Liam starts. “But I don’t see how that changes anything.”

It frustrates Louis that Liam is refusing to let himself see how simple this could be, and that exasperation is evident in his voice when he speaks. “It changes everything,” he counters, eyes flashing. He opens his mouth to say more, but Zayn interrupts him.

“Louis,” he warns, giving him a pointed look. “Just because you’ve had this giant epiphany, doesn’t mean you can blame Liam for not seeing things your way all the time.”

Crossing his arms, Louis tries not to sulk, tries not to fume, but it’s hard. He knows this could be good if all three of them just _tried_ , and they’re all so close to something great that if it doesn’t happen, Louis will regret it for the rest of his life. He doesn’t know how Liam can’t see that.

“What are you two talking about?” Liam asks, more directed towards Zayn than Louis.

“Lou thinks – and I think I agree with him – that the answer to this is for _all_ of us to date.”

Louis stares at Liam, watches the weight of Zayn’s words wash over him, watches him stare with uncertainty between Louis and Zayn.

When he finally does speak, he’s looking at Louis with large, imploring eyes. “If we could barely make us work, then how the hell do you think we’ll be able to manage, all three of us?”

No amount of Zayn’s calm, steady gaze can stop Louis from getting defensive at that. “What do you mean, we barely worked?” he asks defiantly, glowering at Liam. “We _worked_. We worked really fucking well. The only reason we stopped working was because we were both trying to ignore that we would work even better if Zayn was there.”

When Liam looks away, his expression unreadable, Louis stands up, hands balled into tight fists by his sides because he doesn’t want anyone to see how badly they’re shaking. He just wants Liam to understand, just wants the three of them to be everything they can be because nothing else in his life has _ever_ felt this right. “Look, I’m sick of apologizing. I love you, Liam, but I love Zayn as well. And he loves you too. So. Get your head out of your arse, and stop acting like this is done. It isn’t. Not for me, not for Zayn, and if you give up on us now, I will never forgive you.”

He storms out of the room and locks himself in the bathroom because he can’t stomach the idea of going into his old room or Zayn’s room; both of them feel wrong when he’s by himself, and he can’t handle that right now.

He splashes his face with cold water, breathing heavily as he does. He wants his heart to stop beating so fast, hates how he can feel it ricocheting around in his chest. He wishes he didn’t care this much, wishes he wasn’t this affected, but he can’t help it. When he wants something, he wants it with his whole heart, and he’ll do whatever he has to in order to get it.

Turning off the faucet, he sits down, back against the door and tries to calm his mind down. However, Liam and Zayn are talking, and bits of their conversation carry to him. He’s helpless to do anything but listen.

“You have to have known,” comes Zayn’s voice. “I wasn’t exactly subtle about it.”

“I thought– you acted the same way around me that you’ve always acted around Louis.”

“Yeah, and I’ve been in love with Louis since I was sixteen,” Zayn says, laughing incredulously. There’s a pause, and he hears Liam laughing too, surprised but happy.

“Well, I’ve made a right mess of this, haven’t I?” Liam sighs. “You think he’ll forgive me?”

“Of course he will. You’re Liam.” There’s silence, and Louis wants to know what’s happening, is tempted enough to open the door and peek outside, but then Liam speaks.

“You know I love you too, right? It’s the only reason I made it through Louis being gone, and I used to beat myself up for it every day, but now? I feel like…it’s okay. If we all love each other. That’s okay.”

“You sure?” comes Zayn’s voice, and Louis wants to kick him in the head. They were so close, Liam was so close, and Zayn’s trying to ruin it. “You’re not just saying this because you’re scared of losing Lou?”

“I’m sure.” Louis feels his heart swell. This is even better than scoring the winning goal on the pitch, even better than being accepted into one of the most competitive study abroad programs his school had to offer. This is him and Liam and Zayn, and it’s real. “Besides, he’s not the only one I have to lose now.”

The words don’t even spark the barest _hint_ of jealousy within Louis, and that feels fucking magical. He knows they love each other, but they also love him, and nothing can twist that into something ugly because the three of them are something blindingly, unflinchingly beautiful.

Overwhelmed by emotion, Louis unlocks the bathroom door and opens it, walking back out into the living room. Zayn’s moved from the couch to Liam’s armchair, sitting in his lap as they kiss softly. They break apart when they see Louis, and there’s guilt on both of their faces, guilt that Louis wants to wipe away.

Barreling forwards, he squeezes himself into the armchair as well, legs draping over Zayn’s, arms wrapping around Liam’s neck. He places a chaste kiss to both of their lips before nestling his head into Liam’s chest and saying, “Carry on.”

They both share a look before identical smiles break across their features, and they devolve into a tangle of limbs and kisses, all squeezed into one tiny, tiny armchair.

Louis’ face feels like it’s about to break in half. His heart has never felt lighter.

~

Louis spends the rest of the summer on cloud nine. Sure, there are only two weeks left until term starts, and he’s scrambling to get everything sorted out before it starts, but everything’s good between him, Liam, and Zayn, and that’s making the stress of everything else so much easier to handle.

There is the issue that he _still_ hasn’t been back to Doncaster, and with every weekend he pushes it off, the divide between him and his family gets even bigger. His mum has stopped asking altogether if he’s going to come home, and it hurts, even though he knows it’s his fault. He wants so much not to be afraid of what he’ll find, but the very possibility that he won’t belong anymore sends him spiraling into the sort of anxiety that even cigarettes can’t help. Liam and Zayn help, though. They might not know that something’s wrong, but they hold him without questioning why, and that’s all he needs.

They’ve taken to using the guest bedroom as their bedroom now because it’s the biggest, and it’s neutral ground, but they’ve done nothing but fall asleep, absolutely exhausted, in one big pile in the center of the bed, and Louis tries not to be bitter about that. They're just as busy as he is, and, as good as it is to have the security of knowing that they’re together, it would be nice if Louis could spend more than five minutes with Liam and Zayn at a time. It’s difficult, though, because when he’s this stressed, he wants _sex_. He wants dirty, raunchy sex that’ll leave him feeling absolutely boneless when it’s finished.

He mentions it to Liam while they’re waiting up for Zayn to come home from the studio, and Liam just shrugs.

“It’ll happen when it happens,” he says, carding a hand through Louis’ hair. “Forcing that sort of shit never ends well. Especially since there are three dicks involved now instead of two.”

“Whatever,” Louis mutters darkly, even though he knows Liam’s right. He sits up and fixes his fringe because Liam’s ruined it, the bastard. “I’m going to shower for eighty years and wank myself into an early grave.”

Liam laughs, shaking his head, and slaps Louis arse as he heads out of the living room. “Also, don’t forget– tomorrow, Niall’s planning some big night out, and he wants us all to be there.” Louis just rolls his eyes and strips as he walks to the bathroom because he knows Liam’s watching.

~

The club Niall’s chosen is called Diesel, and it’s a bit cramped, but the drinks are strong, and the music is good, so Louis can’t really complain. He’s half way through his second cranberry gin and tonic, and he feels _warm_. Not tipsy yet, just warm, with Liam on one side and Zayn on the other. It feels nice, being sandwiched between his boys, and when he says so to Zayn, he just smirks.

“Who says we’re yours?” he asks, lips pressed to the shell of Louis’ ear. There’s a hint of the rougher Zayn in the way his hand grips Louis’ hip just a little too hard, and Louis licks his hips hungrily. Liam watches the pair of them with hooded eyes, one arm draped lazily around Louis’ shoulders.

“Let’s dance,” Louis says over the music, grabbing Liam and Zayn by the wrists and pulling them after him as he weaves his way onto the dance floor. He can feel arousal pulsing through him, and, finishing off his drink in one go, he’s more than ready for a little bit of action.

Liam slots in place behind Louis – mostly because all he needs to get hard is for Louis to grind his arse into his crotch for a minute or two – and Zayn faces Louis, sliding his thigh in between Louis’ to give him some sort of friction.

They move to the beat, Louis grinding back into Liam and down onto Zayn, his dick hard in his jeans. He can feel that both of them are hard too, and, even if he couldn’t, he would still know. Liam’s hands are roving all over the skin of his chest underneath his t-shirt, and he’s pretty sure Zayn’s groping Liam’s arse behind him.

It’s Liam who kisses Zayn first, over Louis’ head, and Louis feels his dick harden even more – if that’s even possible – at the sight. Liam sucks on Zayn’s tongue, and Louis can feel the groan vibrating through Zayn, their chests flush together.

“Lou’s getting jealous,” Liam mumbles, just loud enough for Louis to hear over the music. “Look at him.” Louis flushes when both of their eyes fix on him, his eyes dark, his mouth slightly parted. “He’s getting all hot and bothered.”

“Poor boy,” Zayn purrs before snaking his hands into Liam’s hair and kissing him with heat and purpose. It’s slow, so slow, just the way Louis likes it, and he’s powerless to do anything but watch. “Must really suck to be him.”

“Think we could get him to come his pants in front of all these people without giving him a second of attention?” Liam asks, and wow, fuck him. Sure, it sends arousal spiking through him, but Louis has a better idea.

“Or,” he says, loud and pointed. “You lot can fuck me so hard that I won’t be able to sit down comfortably for a week.” He sees both of their faces go blank, eyebrows raising and chests heaving. “Y’know. Just a thought.”

Liam and Zayn exchange glances over Louis’ head.

“I’ll call a cab,” Zayn says, and Liam nods vigorously.

~

The entire ride home, Zayn and Liam can’t keep their hands off of Louis, palming at his dick through his jeans, twisting his nipples through his shirt, sucking bruises into the skin of his collarbone. He’s afraid he might come before they get back because all of the attention is sending him into sensory overdrive, but at the same time, he hasn’t had a good fuck in ages, and he knows he’ll be able to get it up again, worst come to worst.

When they get into the apartment, Zayn and Louis lazily make out as Liam strips all three of them, starting with their shirts, pulling down their jeans, kicking off their pants.

“You wanna get fucked, babe?” Zayn asks against Louis’ mouth, and he nods vigorously, mouth dry and dick hard. “You want Liam to open you up?”

“Yes,” Louis says shakily.

“You wanna ride me afterwards?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he groans, hips jerking forwards to rut against Zayn. “Then can I– watch him fuck you?” He can barely think straight and stringing together a proper sentence when he’s _this_ aroused is hard, but still, his effort is rewarded by Zayn swearing loudly, and Liam crowding into their space from behind and reaching a hand down to stroke Zayn’s dick with heated intent.

“Yeah, I think we can work with that,” Liam says cheekily, the bastard. Louis breaks his mouth away from Zayn’s to crane his neck back and seal his mouth against Liam’s.

The three of them stumble into their bedroom, and without wasting a second, Louis lies face down on the bed, his arse in the air. Liam laughs, and Zayn smirks.

“You’re fucking gagging for it,” Liam mumbles, settling himself between Louis’ thighs. He feels the mattress dip by his head where Zayn lies next to him on his side, one hand resting on the small of Louis’ back. “Can’t wait a second more.”

“Liam,” Louis whines, arching his hips even further. “Don’t make me beg for this.”

“Actually I think you should,” comes Zayn’s voice from his left, and _wow_ , fuck him. “Not sure if he deserves anything just yet.” Louis gasps out, half in frustration, half in arousal because as much as he hates Zayn right now, he sort of loves it. “Tell me what you’re going to do to him instead, Li.”

There’s a pause where Liam looks to Louis, a little uncertain, his eyes asking for permission, and Louis nods his head once. He knows that this is starkly different to what he and Liam do when it’s just them, and it’s nice that Liam just wants to make sure this is good for him, for all of them.

“I wanna lick him open,” Liam starts, his voice low and sure. “Nice and slow because I know he hates it when I tease him.” Louis bites down on his lower lip to keep himself from swearing, and almost involuntarily, his hand starts to drift to his dick, but Zayn stops him before he can touch himself, grabbing his hands and pinning them above his head.

“What next?” Zayn asks as Louis squirms, desperate for some sort of friction.

“I’d start fucking his hole with my tongue, and I’d tell him how tight he is, how I could eat his arse for days because, well, I could,” Liam says, his hands groping Louis’ full arse as he speaks as though he can’t stop himself from squeezing the soft curve of his arse cheeks. “That always gets him going.”

It’s too much for Louis, and he gives in. “Jesus Christ, Liam, _please_. I’ll do anything, just– please, fucking do _something_.”

Liam and Zayn share a look over Louis, and off of Zayn’s nod, Liam dips down, spreading Louis’ arse cheeks with the palms of his hands to expose his hole, pressing a chaste kiss to it before swirling his tongue around his entrance. Louis cries out, the suddenness of the pleasure feeling so, so good but his dick is still begging for attention, and his hands are still being held above his head.

As Liam really gets going, his head buried in Louis’ arse, his tongue fucking in and out of Louis, Zayn watches, slowly stroking himself as he looks on. God, Zayn’s dick is beautiful, the perfect length and thickness, and Louis wants to take it down in his mouth. When he says so, Zayn stares at him, looking absolutely wrecked. For once, he’s not all lazy confidence and cool indifference.

“Yeah, okay,” he says shakily. Liam pauses what he’s doing long enough for Louis to position himself on top of Zayn and bend to take him into his mouth, before resuming what he was doing. Louis gasps around Zayn’s dick, which sends a shudder through the other boy. He’s too distracted to take all of Zayn down, but he strokes whatever he can’t get into his mouth with one of his hands. The angle is awkward, and his wrist hurts, but it doesn’t matter because Zayn’s making the prettiest noises in the world, all muffled gasps and breathy groans.

“God, Lou,” he sighs out. “Your _mouth_.”

Louis’ cock feels like dead weight between his thighs because no one’s touching it, no one’s doing anything to it, and he just, he needs _something_. He feels open and empty, instead of flushed and full, and as good as all of this is, he needs something more. Thankfully, Zayn seems to recognize that it’s time for something new too.

“Li,” Zayn mumbles, just as Louis pulls off his dick because Liam’s replaced his mouth with his fingers, and it feels so good that Louis honestly cannot process anything else. “You think he’s good to go?”

Louis doesn’t hear Liam answer, but he must have, because he shuffles out from between Louis’ thighs, pressing a gentle kiss to one of his arse cheeks before pulling away. Louis sits up, slicking his hair back off his face, and watches Zayn and Liam make out, watches Liam slip a condom onto Zayn’s hard dick. They break apart, both of them looking at Louis, and he doesn’t need any more of an invitation.

He crawls into Zayn’s lap, and, with Liam’s help, lines his hole up with Zayn’s dick. There’s a moment of quiet, the only sound in the room that of their breathing, before Louis sinks down on Zayn’s dick, taking all of him inside him at once. They both cry out at the sensation, sweat beading down their chests. Louis feels fingers card its way through his damp hair, feels lips press against his collarbone, feels a hand curl into his hip, all of them egging him on. Exhaling a shaky breath, he lifts himself a little bit before sinking back down, whimpering as pleasure sparks its way through him.

Zayn, for his part, is barely coherent. Liam’s coaxing them through this, his mouth brushing over Zayn’s before it brushes over Louis, just helping them get settled with how good this feels. Once Louis feels less overwhelmed, and he can tell Zayn is there as well, they set a rhythm, slow but deep, one that makes Louis’ thighs ache in the best way possible. Zayn thrusts into him as Louis grinds down, both of them taking turns kissing Liam as they do so.

 _Finally_ , someone gets a hand on Louis. It’s Zayn, stroking him quickly, in tempo with their thrusts, and Louis cries out, desperate and needy, hips rolling into Zayn’s fist. He doesn’t last much longer after that; a few precise strokes from Zayn, and he’s coming all over the other boy’s fist, his orgasm white hot and molten in the center of his chest.

He pulls off of Zayn, feeling like he’s been split in two and relishing how open and freshly fucked he feels. He leans back against the headboard and tries to clean himself up the best he can, but his attention is immediately diverted by Liam licking Louis’ come off of Zayn’s hand, and _damn_. Damn.

Zayn’s still hard, still has more in him, and Louis wants to help him open Liam up, but he’s honestly feeling so boneless and useless that he doesn’t want to move, just watch.

“So good for me, babe,” Zayn purrs, his come slick hand disappearing in between Liam’s legs. “So lovely and warm and _tight_.” Liam arches at that, legs spread so that Zayn can still open him up. “Love thinking how many times Louis’ done this to you.” Louis’ dick twitches interestedly at that, the barest hints of arousal beginning to trickle back in.

“Zayn,” Liam pants, fingers tangling in the other’s hair. “Kiss me.” Louis watches eagerly as Zayn dips forwards, his free hand cupping Liam’s cheek as they kiss. It’s heated, yes, but there’s an underlying layer of tenderness that Louis loves, mostly because he knows that this is just for Zayn; even though the three of them are together, each pair has a way of working that’s entirely unique, and now that Louis understands this, he loves watching the intricacies of it.

Zayn pulls their lips apart before asking, “You need another finger, or –” 

“Fuck me,” Liam grits out, staring at Zayn with purpose. He glances over Zayn’s shoulder at Louis, who’s watching on with his dick half way to fullness once more. “Lou, come here.”

Louis obliges, crawling towards the pair of them, and is vaguely surprised when Liam drags him closer for a sharp, biting kiss. It’s not tender or nice the way he and Zayn had been kissing; instead, it’s full of heat, of desperate, shaking need.

Louis settles down next to Liam, brushing a hand through his hair. Zayn settles himself between Liam’s legs, readying himself up to enter the other boy. Liam lets his eyes flutter shut as Zayn slowly thrusts inside of him, pleasure blossoming over his gentle features. His ankles lock behind Zayn’s back, gently egging him onwards, the two of them setting a steady, comfortable rhythm marked by the sound of skin slapping against skin. Louis watches, awestruck, as they move together, as one entity, one being, Liam’s pleasure mirroring Zayn’s at the exact same moment. It isn’t until Zayn tugs him close, kissing him with hot desperation, that he stops watching, instead focusing on the feeling of Zayn’s mouth and the knowledge that, once again, he’s hard.

“Lou loves watching us,” Zayn says breathlessly to Liam as he fucks him, quicker now, his hips snapping with each thrust. “Look at how hard he is.”

Liam stares from Zayn’s mouth to Louis’ dick, a shuddering gasp pulling from his chest, be it because of something Zayn did or because of the sight of Louis.

“Touch yourself,” he says, although it’s more of a request than anything. Zayn’s the commanding one, whereas Liam always has an edge of politeness to him, even when he’s saying the filthiest things. “I want you to come with us.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Zayn swears, arms shaking where they’re bracketed around Liam’s head. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

Louis’ not one to disappoint, especially when it comes to stuff like this, and, with quick, precise strokes, he fucks into his own fist at the tempo the other two have set. None of them are cut out to last much longer, and he can see both of the other two don’t have much left in them.

It’s Zayn who breaks first, his body stilling as he comes with an unearthly groan, head burying itself in the crook of Liam’s shoulder. Louis doesn’t see Liam come, but he hears it, sharp and high pitched, and that’s enough for him. A few more wet strokes, a twist of his nipple, and he’s spilling cum all over his hand.

They all collapse on top of each other, Liam in the middle, Louis and Zayn curled on either side of him, their chests rising in falling in synchronization. Louis could use a nice, hot shower, but his entire body feels leaden; he’s absolutely spent, and all of his muscles ache in the best way possible.

His mouth parted and his eyes wide, Liam stares at the ceiling for so long that Louis starts to get concerned. He props himself up on one elbow, frowning. “What’s wrong, Liam?” he asks.

“We’ve been living together for nearly two years, and this is the first time we’re doing this?” He sounds quite like he wants to punch himself in the face. “Boys, we have so much lost time to make up for.”

Zayn just snorts, and Louis smirks greedily before curling into Liam’s side and closing his eyes, exhaustion taking over.

~

Louis wakes up the Friday before term starts feeling absolutely refreshed. It might have something to do with how many times he came the night before combined with nine hours of blissful, uninterrupted sleep, but it feels like something _more_ , like a calmness at his core that he’s never really known.

Liam and Zayn stare at him warily as he hums while he makes three cups of tea without being prompted. They gawk at him openly when he _offers_ to go to Tesco and pick up whatever groceries they need. Their jaws practically fall off when he announces that he’s making chicken for dinner.

“Are you running a temperature?” Zayn asks suspiciously, crowding into Louis’ space and brushing back his fringe to press the back of his hand to his forehead. “Did Liam literally fuck you into insanity last night?” 

“Oh, leave him alone, Zayn,” Liam says from where he’s sitting on the counter, his expression unbearably fond. “I may not understand why this is happening, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like it.” When Zayn raises his eyebrows, lips pursed, Liam just shrugs. “I’m a slut for domesticity.”

“For the record,” Louis says sharply before either of them can say anymore, “I’m never doing anything nice for either of you ever again.”

“Good,” Zayn says definitively, stealing a sliced carrot from the cutting board and plopping it into his mouth. “Nice you is weird.”

“Nice you is _sweet_ ,” Liam corrects, shooting Zayn a reproachful look. “Sure, nice you is a little unprompted, but that doesn’t mean we don’t love him all the same.”

“I just – I feel good, y’know?” Louis says, shrugging. “I don’t know. I woke up this morning feeling like _me_ for the first time in longer than I can remember, and I think a lot of that is down to the two of you. So like. I figured I’d be nice. Although, now, I’m seriously reconsidering it because both of you are assholes.”

He doesn’t mean to be sentimental, but it’s true. He hasn’t forgotten about his promise to himself to be more honest with the people he loves, and this is a part of that. He’s tired of holding all of his feelings in, of keeping them locked in his chest, and it feels good to see the way his words make Zayn and Liam light up like the sun.

“Who knew you could be such a sap?” Zayn says, but there’s an almost unbearable amount of fondness in the way he looks at Louis, like he’s falling in love with him all over again.

“You don’t have to feel like you for us to love you.” Louis looks up at Liam’s words, finding the other’s warm, brown eyes staring at him with so much love that it leaves him breathless. “You can give us whatever you can, and we’ll fill in the rest.” Liam’s gaze shifts to Zayn, looking at him with the same conviction and determination. “That goes for you too, Z. For all of us. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says immediately. His voice is a little uneven, and his eyes are glassy.

All of Louis’ life, he’s never quite felt like he was enough, and he’s always been prepared, in the back of his mind, for people to leave him, but seeing the way Liam and Zayn are looking at him right now, he knows that that part of his life is over.

“Yeah.” The word feels like all of the commitment in the world, but Louis is finally ready for that. He’s finally ready to give love and receive it as readily as he can.

A thought occurs to him suddenly, and he says it aloud before he has a chance to second-guess himself. “I want to introduce you guys to my mum.”

“I literally grew up with you. I’ve known your mum since I was twelve,” Zayn says dryly, although there’s curiosity in his gaze.

“Yeah, Lou,” Liam adds, a little sheepish. “We’ve already done the whole, ‘meeting the in laws’ thing.”

“But not like. As the three of us.” Louis’ features twist into his signature expression of stubborn determination, and both Liam and Zayn know better than to argue with him now. “It’s different now. We’ve finally figured out exactly what we’re meant to be, and I want her to know that.” He pauses, exhaling shakily as his heart rate picks up speed. “If you guys don’t have anything planned – we could go this weekend? I haven’t really. Felt like, ready to go home, I guess, until now, and I’d really like it if you two came with me.”

The confession is a lot for him, even as vague as it is, and he can tell that Liam and Zayn understand that. Over the course of the entire summer, neither of them have asked once why he hasn’t gone home, both of them deftly picking up that it’s not their place or their business, and Louis thinks he sees both of them grasp the significance of his request.

“Of course,” Liam says as Zayn nods enthusiastically. “We can leave tonight, if you want?”

“I’ll drive as long as I can choose the music,” Zayn offers.

Louis stares between them, absolutely overwhelmed. He’s got two boys who’d follow him to the ends of the earth, two boys who have such big hearts and so much love to give that he almost feels as though he doesn’t deserve it.

But he pushes that down because if all of this has taught him anything, it’s that he does deserve it. He’s flawed and imperfect and doesn’t always do the right thing, but that doesn’t mean he’s unworthy of love. The people who love him will forgive him. The people who love him will stay.

Resting the knife on the cutting board, Louis turns to Liam and Zayn, closing the distance between them. All three of them come together easily, faces buried into shoulders and arms wrapped tightly around each other.

“This is going to be an amazing year,” Zayn says, voice muffled by Louis’ shoulder.

“This is going to be an amazing _life_ ,” Liam corrects, and none of them say anything in response because it’s true. They just hold each other even tighter.

Louis’ got two beautiful boys, and he’s never letting them go.

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to come and say hello, i'm tumblr user [achillesthegreat](http://achillesthegreat.tumblr.com) :)


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